The process of packing up your life and moving to a new dwelling is overwhelming.  While it is also exciting, this aspect of starting a new chapter in the book of life, the drudgery of it all drags at the corners of the excitement, keeping it grounded in reality.  And reality, as we all know too well, bites the big one.

Room by room, possessions are packed into boxes, leaving only large furniture standing as solitary sentinels, guardians of the memories of life in this house.  A house which day by day, looks less and less like home, and more and more like an emptying house, devoid of personality.

At least at this point, we are working inside in the air conditioning.  There is much, much more to be done in the outer storage areas (garage, pool house, garden shed) but it is positively too damned hot.  (That, coming from me, the person who loves heat, should give you an indication of how hot "too hot" is.)  At 9:30 last night, it was a breezeless 90 degrees outside; the humidity so high it must be off all measurable charts.  Even the occasional rain showers do nothing but make it steamier and everything sticky to the touch.  No relief in sight, they tell us, with each day hotter and stickier than the last, right through the weekend.

We don't have many more weekends left before that large moving truck and army of ants converge to move us from here to there, and everything needs to be finished, packed and prepared for that ultimate activity.  Somehow, in spite of mother nature thwarting our attempts, it will get done.  We are nothing if not persistent and doggedly determined. 

Another day, another roomful of boxes.

Happy blogging. 

 
     pw